A gratitude list for a full, fast, beautiful season in the U.S.

July wasn’t defined by one extraordinary event.

Returning from Japan meant that the month unfolded through dozens of smaller moments—conversations, traditions, friendships, small victories, shared meals, familiar places, and the growing awareness that the people I love, myself included, are all becoming something new.

Small actions can create big differences, and I believe the same can be said about moments: the smaller ones hold significant impact, and during this month I found myself drawn to those more intimate times and reflections.

01 Practicing Bringing My Best Self home

Returning from Japan no longer feels like closing a chapter. This time, I began intentionally carrying pieces of the life I love there into my everyday life in Charlotte. Coffee first, emails second. More intentional photography. Writing from the heart instead of curated towards an audience. Choosing experiences over obligations and most importantly, setting healthier boundaries—not because I care any less, but because I’ve realized if I don’t, it is not sustainable, especially during this current season. I can’t give my best to others if I never save any of it for myself.

It’s been an effort, and some days have been easier than others. But for the first time, Charlotte doesn’t feel like the place where I’ve left my favorite version of myself behind, and I am working hard on keeping it that way.

02 Celebrating Friends

One of life’s loveliest gifts is watching good people receive the recognition they’ve earned. This month reminded me how much joy there is in celebrating others—not because they’ve achieved something huge, but because the people around them are seeing what you’ve already known. That they are awesome human beings.

Whether I’ve met them through volunteer work, photography, mahjong, the arts, or the winding paths of life, I find myself grateful for friendships with people whose successes feel worth cheering for. Being invited to stand alongside them in those moments is its own kind of honor. Because celebrating someone else’s joy never diminishes your own; it expands it.

03 Circle of Friends

Less than a week after we returned from Japan, Jackson packed another bag—this time for a few days at the beach with his three closest friends. Watching them as they packed up their cars, I realized this trip wasn’t really about the beach. It’s about the knowledge that your child has found people who bring out the best in him.

They met when they were freshmen, and over the years each built friendships with others. But theirs was the group that was the core. These were the guys who stayed up late talking, made each other laugh loudly until they couldn’t breathe, turned mock trials into unforgettable memories, found a love for poker, and somehow made their four years of high school anything but ordinary.

What I admire most, though, is the character and heart of these young men. They are kind, they work hard. They are thoughtful, respectful, and genuinely happy for one another’s accomplishments. Just as importantly, they come from families whose generosity and warmth are reflected in all the children they’ve raised. It’s impossible to spend time with them without seeing the example their parents have set.

As Jackson prepares to leave for Syracuse, I find myself deeply grateful that he isn’t leaving home with only memories. He’s leaving with friendships build on kindness, trust, encouragement, and mutual respect. Those are the relationships I hope will last long after college—and perhaps even a lifetime.

04 Wine Down Wednesdays

I love happy surprises! One such moment happened with a circle of women gathering in the fireplace room, each bringing a bottle of wine, a few snacks to share, and a willingness to linger over conversation. Welcome to a fabulous additions to the Junior League: Wine Down Wednesday’s. If you didn’t go in July, that was a mistake, and I suggest you go to the next one.

Our President and EVP invited us to join them for what they described as their own version of a fireside chat. Jokes came from around the room about President Roosevelt, wearing monocles and carrying walking sticks, and in no time the room wasn’t filled just with marvelous women, but laughter as well.

My thoughts keep returning to that night—but not for the jokes. At least, not only for the jokes. It was the ease of the evening. While we were invited to come and chat about the League, it turned into something infinitely more meaningful: connection. We talked about our summers, books we were reading, and all the little things that don’t usually find their way onto an agenda. There were no expectations beyond being present and I loved that.

It was a great reminder that organizations aren’t built just by meetings and committees. They’re built by relationships. They’re built by people choosing to know one another beyond a title they hold. And as we being the new League year—our Centennial year at that!—I was so glad to leave that evening feeling encouraged and genuinely excited for what lies ahead. When conversations meander and you find yourself sharing stories over a glass of wine, that’s where the magic happens.

05 Quiet Leadership

My husband will probably die when/if he reads this—he’s not a spotlight seeker and prefers to keep a very low profile. But he deserves his due and I feel it’s my responsibility as his wife of 27 years to acknowledge the man he is-specifically in leadership. It’s how he’s practiced it for years and a reason I think people turn to him.

Whether serving on non-profit boards, helping lead organizations that support and advocate for Pan-Asian professionals, or offering thoughtful guidance when it’s needed, he has a way of making people feel heard, valued, and capable. This isn’t something that comes from a place of authority, but from kindness, wisdom, humility, and a confidence that invites others to do their best.

Years ago in Tokyo, I watched him unanimously elected from treasurer to chairman of the board of a mental health non-profit. I wasn’t surprised, but this year, as I’ve watched others one again seek out his leadership, I felt such a sense of pride. Different organization, different country, but the same person.

There are many ways to lead, but my favorite has always been how I’ve observed his. It is warm rather than loud, steady instead of showy, and it is rooted in the simple belief that the best leaders help other people shine. Watching people recognize those qualities in someone you love is a gratitude all its own.

06 McDonald’s Caramel Frappés

I don’t eat much fast food, but I will happily make an exception for one thing: a McDonald’s caramel frappé.

It is quite possible the worst version of a coffee you can have, and sugary sweet would be an understatement. But I love my coffee sweet, and I suspect this very special fondness is due to my grandpa. When I was little, if I was visiting (or he was), he would pour me a tiny cup of coffee with a spoonful of condensed milk. He was stationed in Asia for some time, and how this very Vietnamese-style coffee found its way to me decades before I found my own way there isn’t lost on me.

I don’t remember many specific moments with him, but I do remember those. It felt like our little secret. He’d pat my head, hand me the cup with a wink, a quick smile, and for a little bit, I got to be part of the grown-up world.

After more than a month in Japan, Jackson and I landed in Detroit, tired, and facing unexpected delays. Somewhere between checking the departure board and calculating how much longer we’d be awake, I saw something in bold yellow and arched down the corridor. Jackson was already steps ahead of me, and my mouth was watering at the thought of enjoying this frosty, caramel treat. And when I tell you it was glorious, it is still not a strong enough word to express how good it was.

Was it the finest coffee I’d ever had? Objectively, no. Absolutely not. But it was what I needed in that moment of first world crisis, and the memories that flooded back were quite possibly the only thing sweeter. It’s wild when you can be grateful for a memory that seldom pops into your mind, but when it does, it’s because you find yourself looking down into a plastic cup with whipped cream and caramel on top. Thanks grandpa.

07 Building Something of my Own

Over the past few months I’ve spent countless hours building my photography website. It isn’t fancy, built upon a basic template, but since then I’ve been customizing it to look how I would want my favorite photography website to feel: warm, inspired, and inviting. It should also be easy to navigate. From choosing fonts and exploring color grids to learning just enough code to solve tiny problems, I've learned so much. Along the way, I was also figuring out how to best introduce myself—how to optimize my early portfolios, how to edit new photographs. I started over more than once, but I also learned to celebrate the little victories before moving on to the next challenge. It has been an effort, but one I'm so damn proud of.

Then two weeks ago I came across a visually stunning website someone had shared online. My first thought was, Wow…I wish mine looked like that. I continued to study and admire it, the inner dialogue of doubt growing, but then I got to the bottom of the last page I paused, because I had made a wild discovery: it had all been generated by artificial intelligence. From the words to the photographs (the photographs!!), every single part of the website had been generated by AI.

Don’t misunderstand, it was still undeniably impressive to look at, beautiful and polished and so well executed. But once I saw the truth, it silenced the thoughts that had been running through my head. Because this was a part I’d never wanted to skip: the part where I worked to make something of my own, on my own.

The frustration in trial and error. The evenings spent figuring out why something wasn’t working, and then the satisfaction of finally solving it. None of these things slowed me down even though they took time. Each one was a part of something I was building with intention and heart.

Every photograph on the website is one I took. Every edit reflects decisions I made. Every page has been shaped through hours of learning, experimenting and slowly finding my own style.

It’s elegance is in its simplicity, and there will always be something sleeker, faster, or more sophisticated. But when I finally press “Publish” I won’t just be sharing a photography website. I’ll be sharing something I built that I once wasn’t sure I could build. And to me, that feels almost more meaningful than the website itself.

08 Shared Stories

One of the greatest joys of being Madeline’s mom is discovering how stories become one of the language we speak together.

While in New York we saw The Great Gatsby on Broadway. Most of the original cast was still there but in their final three shows. Reeve Carney (Gatsby) who happens to be married to Eva Noblezada (Daisy), a North Carolina gal, in real life, Corbin Bleu as Nick was a revelation (a treat for High School Musical fans), and the astounding Samantha Pauly as Jordan. They were as marvelous to watch as they were to meet afterwards.

This is a story my daughter has loved for years, collecting different editions of the novel long before the musical was a concept, and watching her beloved book come to life in an entirely new way was such a special experience.

The next afternoon we found ourselves at The Palace to watch a new musical, The Lost Boys. Composed by The Rescues (a favorite accapella group my mine and Shannon’s), it was haunting, endearing, and so much fun with their nods to the film! If you’d asked me years ago whether Madeline would enjoy a musical based on 1987’s vampire movie, I would have shaken my head and laughed. It’s not her thing and yet, she absolutely loved it.

Seeing it right after it won at the Tony’s (the most nominated musical btw), definitely brought an incomparable energy to the entire show.

Sitting beside her, though, I had to acknowledge that I wasn’t just sharing this particular show with her. I was carrying someone else into the theatre with us. A childhood friend, Trisha, was the one who introduced me to scary movies, to The Lost Boys, and the wonderfully ridiculous era of the Two Coreys. She passed several years ago, but I know she would have adored this production. Somewhere between the music and the memories it felt as if a little piece of her was sitting beside us, too.

Whether we’re talking about Broadway, K-pop, novels, or whatever series we’re currently directing together, I’ve come to realize that the stories we love become more than entertainment. They become bridges between our generations, between friendships, the people who help us to grow into who we are. Long after the curtains fall or the final page is turned, stories continue to bring us together.

09 Our New York

Every city has places you return to time and again. Some almost feel as if they are a part of you.

For myself and Madeline, New York has become that place.

We returned once again to our home away from home at The Carlyle, greeted by familiar faces and the comforting rhythm of a neighborhood we’ve come to know by heart. We walked the Upper East Side streets we’ve wandered so many times before, discovering that our return to a favorite place often means rarely doing the same thing twice—with some exceptions.

We worked our way through a few more restaurants from our ever-growing list on the Beli app.

Beauty & Essex absolutely lived up to its reputation, with its unforgettable tomato soup and grilled cheese dumplings served in a room that felt deliciously moody and full of character.

At Bazaar Meat, every course felt playful and inventive, but it was the tiny two-bite Philly cheesesteak tacos that stole the show. After Madeline flew home, I ended my own weekend at Café Commerce, a short walk from the hotel. I enjoyed their perfectly made house specialty, rigatoni carbonara, followed by a pavlova filled to the brim with whipped cream and the most sublime passion fruit curd—a dessert so wonderful I’m pretty certain I’ll spend years trying to find another one that compares…or not. Maybe I’ll just stick to what I know can’t be replicated.

But the meals were only part of the story.

We wandered through an expansive museum hidden within a hotel, stumbled across a store heavily visited while in Japan (and actually got in), laughed through cab rides, revisited a favorite television landmark in SoHo, browsed shops, and spent hours doing what we always seem to do best together: walking, talking, and taking in everything that was around us. There is something about New York that makes us both so curious, more observant, and much like Tokyo, more ourselves. Perhaps we’re both Big City girls at heart.

It’s why watching Madeline is what I treasure most about these visits. New York has a way of making her glow. And perhaps that’s why these weekends have become such a cherished tradition. they aren’t simply trips to a favorite city. They’re opportunities to spend uninterrupted time together, making new memories in a place that as woven its way into our lives, becoming as much a part of our relationship as our story.

10 Jackson

In life, and in parenthood, growth can happen noticeably, it can happen gradually. Sometime it happens in a way that it takes you a while to notice it.

Throughout July, I found myself trusting Jackson in ways that came more naturally than they ever had before. He was on top of his Syracuse emails without being reminded. He handled certain steps of college and that approaching life with assurance. I noticed him taking care of things around the house without having to ask. Conversations became easier, our communication more natural, and bit by bit I could see I wasn’t watching a boy who needed constant direction anymore. I was watching a young man comfortable in the responsibility of directing himself.

I think we both understand that this season is finite. I know I’m savoring these last few days before we head to New York and I wonder, in his own way, he is, too. This is time we are carefully protecting. Between time with friends, family dinners, packing boxes and preparing for the adventure ahead, there has been a quiet intentionality to this summer I don’t think either of us expected.

By the end of July, most everything he needed for his dorm had been packed and shipped to Syracuse. The practical work of preparing for college is well underway, but what fills me with a great sense of gratitude isn’t how organized he has become. It’s the young man he is becoming.

He is thoughtful. Respectful. He can be stoic, but is kind and curious. He has a wicked sense of humor and is excited for what lies ahead. As his parents, we could not ask for more than that. Watching him move with confidence toward this next chapter has been one of the biggest blessings of the summer, and I cannot wait to see the life he builds there.

Every month teaches us something if we’re willing to pay attention. June reminded me that there are special places with the power to shape us and bring out the best version of ourselves. July reminded me that people do, too.

July was a month filled with celebrating friends, cherishing family, sharing stories, doing work, and small moments that became lasting memories. Looking back, I don’t see a month defined by deadlines or accomplishments, but by relationships.

And if that’s what it leaves behind, then I cannot imagine a better way to remember it.

Edit 57: Ten Things—July